i suppose you're wondering what all this has to do with mr. blandings and his dream house? well, i'll tell you. jim blandings is part of the fabric of this town. born and raised right here, he's as typical a new yorker as anyone you'll ever meet. at least he was. and if you want to know the real story, i guess i'm your boy. cole's my name, bill cole. i'm jim's lawyer and quote, best friend, unquote. jim's one of those bright young men from yale. advertising business, lovely wife, two fine kids, makes almost fifteen thousand a year. want to know why? just look up there.
it certainly is.
perhaps "steal" is an understatement -- "swindle" might be a little more appropriate.
every time you get a little tight you weep on my shoulder about the advertising business and how it forces a sensitive soul like yourself to make a living by bamboozling the american public. i would say that a small part of this victimized group has now redressed the balance.
you! you've been taken to the cleaners and you don't even know your pants are off!
first time around you offered ten thousand dollars for fifty acres, right?
that's two hundred dollars an acre. i know that part of connecticut and one hundred dollars an acre is standard top-gouge price to city slickers. when the natives sell to each other it's around forty or less.
not two hundred and eighty-four percent. and besides, you're not getting fifty acres, you're only getting thirty- five, more or less.
i refer to a rather obscure post- script on the back of the second letter from friend smith.
you're not spending eleven thousand five hundred dollars for tennis courts!
that's precisely the point. we're going to write this hackett a strong letter and tell him he can either kick in with those fifteen acres, reduce the price, or find another sucker.
you mean extortion.
like what, for instance?
i don't care if general grant dropped in for a scotch and soda -- you're still getting rocked!
that doesn't make this a good buy.
more or less.
thirty-one and a half.
it's nothing, your honor, just a few less tennis courts.
congress ought to pass a law. when a man buys a house in lansdale county there's a prize -- he gets ten percent off if he can find it.
they are probably mills that have shrunk.
look -- you really want to find that house of yours -- it's no problem.
just pretend you're one of general gates' horses and you're thirsty.  now where would you go for a drink of water?
well, i must admit it's a very beautiful thing.
it's a good thing there are two of you -- one to love it and one to hold it up.
what'd your engineer say when he checked over the foundation and that roof?
i just saw it move.
look -- let me do you a favor. i've got a client, crackerjack structural engineer, joe apollonio; he practically built the george washington bridge single-handed.
he's the follow who advised the government not to raise the normandie -- they didn't listen to him, cost them five million dollars.
no thanks, i'll just stay out in the car and listen to "life can be beautiful."
hello, muriel. well, you've done it again'. once, just once, why don't you come to me and find out if it's all right, if it's legal, before you go barging off and run yourself smack into another jam!
and i must say, simms, i hold you equally responsible!
did you let this idiot tear down that house?
i quite agree. but you're dealing with a man who doesn't think before he acts, who goes off half-cocked!
you're an architect! you must have been aware of the legality involved.
you knew there was a mortgage on that house.
and you know the requirements in regard to a mortgage where there's demolition intended!
with a man like this you can't assume anything!
in clear, concise english, you tore down a house on which another man holds a mortgage without first getting his written permission.
and in such case, the mortgagee can demand the full payment of said mortgage upon demand -- and mr. ephemus hackett so demands! six thousand clams! and he wants them now!
you've got ten days.
what'll you do for collateral on your building loan?
i'm sure it won't be necessary. i'll see the boys at the bank. maybe you can put up your insurance as collateral. if necessary, i'll sign a personal note.
and jim, do me a little favor. the next time you're going to do anything, or say anything, or buy anything, think it over very carefully, and when you're sure you're right -- forget the whole thing. good night, muriel.
what's that?
oh.
what's going on over there?
well? what happened to the trout stream, with that pure, clear, cold mountain water?
what's wrong with that steam shovel?
what mr. blandings means is -- what precisely is a ledge?
like a ledge.
"come to peaceful connecticut -- trade city soot for sylvan charm."
on a hot day there's nothing like a nice cool limestone shower.
if you ask me, this project's getting a little out of hand.
meansa we gotta blast.
hi.
just going over the knapp contracts with old man dascomb and i -- uh -- can i talk?
while i was in there with dascomb the conversation kind of got around to you and -- uh --
well, he didn't say in so many words that ever since you started with that house you haven't turned in a decent piece of copy, but --
that if i told you, you'd know that he knew that you knew that he knew.  that you knew.  or something.
congratulations.
what's this, another closet?
maybe it's that little room off the hallway.
do me a favor -- don't ever invite me here for a meal.
you know these new york millionaires -- they're eccentric.
after you, rockefeller.
i'll browse around upstairs.
the door blew shut. i got locked in.
maybe for houdini -- not for me.
nothing like that good old yankee know-how.
leave a call for seven o'clock. monday morning.
roger.
what's a "zuz-zuz water soft-n-r"?
you've got one.
another first!
you've got it.
isn't there a later one?
maybe you can have the railroad push the train up to four-fifteen -- then you won't have to go to bed at all!
kind of hate to leave that little place. just four walls and a couple of mothballs, but to me it'll always be home.
don't worry, i'll be on the job.
when i married you two i suppose i took you for better or for worse.
good old uncle bill.
stay put. you look too comfortable.
oh, i'm not mr. blandings. cole's the name, bill cole.
friend of the family. wet clothes. just came in out of the rain.
cole. bill cole. friend of the family. just came in out of the rain.
that's fine. no bridge. how do i get back to lansdale?
muriel, really! with your husband in new york and your children away -- think of my reputation.
that's the story of my life.
don't worry about the man who gave the world "when you've got the whim, say wham!"-- this well will never run dry.
'morning. hello, jim.
slept like a rock.
we were at the two hundred twenty volt cable that goes to the stove.
if you'll all excuse me -- i -- i think i'll just go up and slip into something a little more comfortable.
oh, mr. tesander -- could you give me a lift to town?
be right with you.
in case anyone's interested, i'm leaving for town. if you want to count the silverware, i'll wait.
what happened to him?
mind if i say something?
you know, i've kind of been the voice of doom about this whole project. every step of the way i was firmly convinced you were getting fleeced, bilked, rooked, flimflammed and generally taken to the cleaners. and maybe you were. maybe it cost you a whole lot more than you thought it would. maybe there were times when you wished you'd never started the whole thing. but when i look around and see what you two have here -- i don't know. maybe there are some things you should buy with your heart and not with your head. maybe those are the things that really count.  see you around.